Don't Call Me Zuzu

Don’t Call Me Zuzu

Flashback:
Zuko, the five-year-old prince of the Fire Nation, clung to his mother’s side.  He was crying.
His mother was lying in her bed, her skin as pallid as the sheets tucked around her.  Upon hearing her son’s weeping she lifted one frail hand and stroked his hair.  “Don’t cry, Zuzu.” She comforted.  “Everything will be alright.”
This only caused the young prince to cry harder.  “No, Mama!  No!”
“Shhhh,” The woman whispered with her fading voice.  She took Zuko’s hand in her own and squeezed it gently.  “I love you, Zuzu.  Always remember that.”
“No, Mama, please!  Don’t go, Mama!” Zuko cried as his mother’s already weak grip on his hand slackened.  Her body convulsed as she struggled to breathe and then she closed her eyes and was still.  Zuko buried his face in his mother’s side and wept.  “Mama!”
“Come away, Zuko.” Came a cold voice.  “She’s gone.”
The young prince turned his tear-stained face to the figure silhouetted in the doorway.  “Oh, Father!” He sobbed, running towards the man and latching tightly to his robes.  
His father, Fire Lord Ozai, stared coldly down at his son.  The boy was crying freely.  Ozai heartlessly pried his son off of his robes and commanded.  “Go find your uncle and get cleaned up.  You can’t go to your mother’s funeral looking like that.  Think of how disappointed she’d be.”
Though it seemed impossible, Zuko began to cry even harder.  He ran down the halls to his room and locked himself in.  His mother was gone and his father hated him.  He would find no comfort here.

*    *    *    *    *    *    *

“Have you become uncivilized so soon, Zuzu?” Azula questioned.  She gazed at Zuko with eyes as cold as her father’s.  
Zuko flinched.  Zuzu.  It was surprising how one little word could cause such a painful memory to resurface.
“Zuzu?” Azula repeated.  “I asked you a question.”
Zuko glared at her.  “Don’t call me that!” He shouted angrily.  Only Mama can call me Zuzu.